They were sitting on the front steps, shoving hotdogs, just mustard on Owl’s, relish and onions on Raccoons, into their faces. Owl’s sister stood in the doorway behind them, listening and trying to make out what they were saying between mouthfuls.
They were planning to rob a bank, return a goat to a troll, and something about making a raft.
Her ride pulled in. She ran out, slipping between the boys.
“You two are fucking weird, you know that, right?” And then she smiled, leaned in kissed them both and whispered, “Hold on to that as tight as you can.”